


We Have Always Lived Under The Ocean

by Alice_Writes_Stuff



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Autistic Fiona Widdershins, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fiona Deserved Better, Gen, Pre-Canon, Shirley Jackson References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/Alice_Writes_Stuff
Summary: After a difficult night aboard the Queequeg submarine, Fiona hopes that her day will be less stressful- of course, nothing is ever so straightforward...
Relationships: Captain Widdershins/Mrs. Widdershins (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Fernald | The Hook-Handed Man & Fiona, Mrs. Widdershins & Fiona
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	We Have Always Lived Under The Ocean

We Have Always Lived Under The Ocean

Fiona had fallen asleep under her desk again, wrapped up in her favourite green blanket. This always happened when her stepfather and her brother got into one of their fights. She just kept telling herself that if she curled up under the desk and covered her head with her blanket, and stayed there until morning, everything would be okay.

It wasn’t that she thought she was in any _danger,_ necessarily, from the fighting- it was just so _loud._ Her stepfather already had a louder voice than most people, but it only got worse when he was angry, then Fernald would have to try to match that loudness in order to be heard, and it was all far, far too much.

She crawled out from under the desk, taking a second to regain her balance. Fiona and her family had lived in the same submarine for as long as she could remember, so she should probably be used to the floor being wobbly by now, but it still caught her off guard sometimes.

It was very quiet now. She wasn’t quite sure what this argument had been about, but she was glad that it was over now- even if it meant, more likely than not, that it would be her turn to get in trouble over something next. While there were quiet times on the submarine, it usually didn’t take long for one of them to get in trouble over something, and their stepfather always seemed to respond the same way, by shouting.

It seemed a bit silly, in Fiona’s opinion. Yes, she was only five, and there were a lot of things she didn’t know- but she did know that, whenever she did something bad, she felt better talking to Mummy about it, because she would explain why certain things were wrong, and it would sort of make sense. But nothing ever made sense when her Stepfather told her off for it.

And it was even sillier to tell Fernald off the same way- he was nineteen, that meant he was technically a grown-up. And she knew that if you were nineteen you were technically a grown-up, because that came up in pretty much every argument her stepfather and her brother had at some point or other.

Putting her glasses on, Fiona made her way into the kitchen, where Mummy was making breakfast.

“Where are Fernald and Stepfather?” she asked, noticing they hadn’t been in the dining room.

“Your stepfather is still in his room for now,” Mummy replied. “And your brother's in town- it’s probably best they stay away from each other, at least for today.”

“Oh,” Fiona replied. “Can I go and-”

“No,” Mummy replied. “You can’t go into town too, not on your own at any rate- not after last week.”

* * *

They had come to this small lakeside town just over a week ago, parking their submarine between two houseboats. Fiona wasn’t sure _exactly_ why they were here, but she knew that it did have something to do with a lady who lived in this town, in a house on top of a cliff, who her stepfather was working with.

A day or two after they’d arrived at the town, Fernald had left the submarine to go exploring, and Fiona had decided to go as well. Unfortunately, she had gotten lost instead. It hadn’t been that bad, though- she had been told to find a lady with children if she ever got lost, and she had found a lady with three children, all of whom looked very much the same. They had been maybe a couple of years younger than her- a boy wearing a green jumper, a girl wearing a black dress, and another boy wearing a purple jumper.

Fiona had told them that she and her family lived in a submarine- it was the only one in the town, they’d know where to find it- and the lady had started to walk her back, until they had bumped into Fernald, who’d taken her the rest of the way home.

Of course, once she had gotten back to the submarine, she had been in a lot of trouble, and she’d had to promise not to do anything like that again.

“I know you meant well, Fi,” Fernald had said. “But next time, just stay in the submarine, okay? I’ll come back, you don’t need to go looking for me.”

* * *

Fiona nodded, and went to sit at the long table in the dining room. She swung her legs as she waited for breakfast, though she was barely aware that she was doing it. Stepfather was always telling her she fidgeted around too much, but she couldn't help it- any more than she could help jumping up and down when she was happy, or playing with her hair, or any of the other things that she did without thinking too much about it.

Mummy came through from the kitchen and set down two bowls of cereal, one in front of Fiona, one in the chair opposite hers, and sat down.

“What were Stepfather and Fernald arguing about last night?” Fiona asked. She’d retreated to her hiding place under her desk as soon as she’d heard the raised voices- she hadn’t heard what exactly they’d been shouting about, it had been muffled by her blanket.

“I think I’d better let your brother be the one to explain that- he came to us last night with something that I had known for a while, and your stepfather didn’t take it very well. It isn’t anything bad, and I don’t want you to worry about it- but Fernald did ask me not to say anything until he’d had a chance to talk to you himself.”

“So it’s a secret?”

“Sort of, yes.”

“Oh,” Fiona replied. “That makes sense.”

For a minute or two, they were both quiet, just eating their breakfast. Then Fiona spoke up again, changing the subject from what had happened last night.

“Mummy, could you fix my hair later?” she asked. She liked to have her hair in two braids, one over each shoulder- which was one less than Mummy, who just had one braid over one shoulder. The only problem was, because she ended up playing with her braids so often, they would often come undone, which always annoyed her. “Actually, do you think you could show me how to do the braids myself?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Why don’t I do one, so I can show you how they’re done, and you can try doing the other yourself?”

Fiona nodded, and after they had finished their breakfast, Mummy brought her chair round so that it was behind Fiona’s, and got to work on her first braid.

“Now, don’t worry if you don’t get it right the first time- these things take practice, and a fair amount of patience,” she explained, as she divided Fiona’s hair down the middle into two sections. “What you need to do, generally speaking, is to divide your hair into three sections, then alternate crossing the outside sections over the middle section.”

Fiona watched, fascinated, and tried to think of a way to remember the process. In her head, she labelled each section left, middle and right. Left over middle, right over middle, left, right, left, right…

“Fiona, dear, did you hear that?” Mummy asked, securing a purple hair tie around the end if the finished braid. Fiona nodded. “Alright, do you want to try it yourself now?”

She nodded again, and divided her hair the same way Mummy had earlier. That bit was easy enough, but trying to remember which bit was the left section and which was the right was a different matter. In the end, she did sort of have a braid, but it was much wonkier and messy than the one Mummy had done.

“That’s a very good try,” Mummy said. Fiona shook her head.

“That just means it stinks, but you’re too nice to say it.”

“No- you’ve never tried that before, it makes sense that it wouldn't look perfect. But you did your best, and the more you practice, the better you’ll be. You’ll find that a lot as you go through life- there are very, very few things that you’ll get right on the first try, and that’s true for everybody. Whether it’s reading chapter books, riding a bike, doing laundry or braiding your own hair, you’ll find that they get easier the more you do them. Now, do you want me to sort your braid out, so they’re both the same?”

Fiona nodded, pleased that Mummy seemed to realise that the braids needed to look more or less the same for her to really feel happy with them. There were a lot of little things that could make the difference between her feeling happy or annoyed, and sometimes it seemed like Mummy was the only one who really got them- or at least didn’t think she was weird because of them. Stepfather said she was just fussy, that she had too many whims that shouldn't be indulged for fear it spoiled her. Fernald called her a _weird kid,_ but he always said it with a smile- which, so far as she understood, meant it wasn’t meant as a bad thing.

Stepfather came in just as Mummy was finishing the second braid, securing it with a green hair tie.

“Morning, everyone!” he said. He didn’t sound like he had been shouting all night, but then again, he never did.

“Morning, dear,” Mummy said, standing up and going through to the kitchen to fetch another bowl of cereal for him.

“Morning, Flora,” he said, taking a seat beside the one Mummy had been sitting in. “And good morning to you too, Fiona,” he added.

“Morning,” Fiona replied, focusing on her stepfather’s hat. He was very particular about eye contact, but that was something Fiona had always found difficult. But she found that, if she looked at his hat instead, that was usually good enough. “Is Mrs. Anwhistle coming over today?” she asked, not sure what else to say.

“I don’t think so! But she’ll be coming tomorrow, I think- aye, she has a few things to check over by the cove, and we’ll be going over that tomorrow!”

Fiona nodded. Mrs. Anwhistle and her husband had come over near the start of their stay here, the day before Fiona had gotten lost. Mrs. Anwhistle had been nice- although she’d seemed a bit annoyed by how Stepfather talked, more specifically by how often he used the word _aye._

“I think I’m going to practise my reading,” Fiona said, climbing down from her chair and taking her bowl through to the kitchen.

“Alright,” Mummy said. “Don’t spend all day on that, though- we’ll be going over your letters later, remember.”

“I’ll remember!” she replied, going to her room, where her favourite mycology books were kept.

She took one of her books into the reading room, and sat down in one of the large chairs with it. Fiona wasn’t sure what it was about mushrooms that she found so interesting, but on some level, it seemed like the interest had always been with her. The book she’d brought was one of the first she’d ever been given on the subject- an illustrated guide to different kinds of mushrooms. Admittedly, she couldn’t read most of it yet, but the pictures were really pretty, and she’d be able to read all of the actual words soon enough.

Fiona wanted to be able to read fluently partly so she could read all of her mycology books and learn everything they contained, but also partly so that she could read We Have Always Lived In The Castle herself. That was her favourite book that wasn’t about mushrooms- although the main character did like them a lot. It had been Fernald who’d first read it to her when she’d only been a baby- apparently she had been crying, and he hadn’t known how to get her to stop, so he’d just grabbed the first book that came to hand and started reading it to her until she settled down.

Regardless of what the reasoning had been, it was their story now, even if it was pretty dark and a bit scary at times. Although knowing how it ended, it couldn't really scare her any more- knowing that no matter what, Merricat and Constance would be okay, it wasn’t as scary when bad things happened to them.

It helped that Merricat was weird- not quite in the same ways that Fiona was, but she didn’t like noise, and she did like mushrooms, so they had that in common- and Constance was much older than her, like how Fernald was much older than Fiona. Stepfather was even shouty and unpredictable, like Uncle Julian was. They just needed a fancy house and a cat.

Anyway, Fiona wanted to be able to read the book by herself, so she would continue learning until she got there. Until then, there were a few passages from the book that she could probably recite from memory by now.

* * *

Later, when the reading room clock said it was twelve o’clock, Fiona went through to the kitchen for lunch. She wasn’t looking where she was going, though, and she didn’t see the cable on the floor until she had already tripped over it, landing with a thump.

“Ow,” she muttered, although it didn’t really hurt. She was more concerned about whether her glasses were still in one piece- she didn’t want to go to the eye doctor again.

“Fiona! Are you okay?” her stepfather’s voice boomed.

“I think so!” she replied, and tried to get to her feet. When she put her weight onto her left foot, however, that did hurt a bit, and her foot didn’t seem to want to have any weight put on it. She fell back down again. “I tripped on something, and I can’t stand up.”

Her stepfather came into the hall and picked her up, carrying her through to the dining room and setting her down on one of the chair. Fiona had been a little worried he wouldn't believe her, that he’d think she was just being silly or making a fuss over nothing. She was glad that he hadn’t done that, though.

“That feels like a sprain,” he said, once he’d checked the injury. “I must say, you’re taking it well! Aye, most kids your age would be screaming the place down if something like this happened!”

“It doesn’t really hurt,” Fiona replied. “Maybe a little bit, but not very much.” This seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“ _It doesn’t really hurt?!”_ he echoed. “Aye, how can that be possible! Aye, it’s not possible! It’s not believable! It’s-”

“I’m sorry!” Fiona shouted, clamping her hands her ears. “I’m telling the truth, honest!” She wondered if it would've been better if she had acted like it hurt a lot.

“What is going on in here?” Mummy asked, coming into the dining room. “Are you alright, Fiona?”

“She sprained her ankle,” Stepfather replied. “She’s saying it doesn’t hurt! That can’t be possible, can it?”

“Whether it is or isn’t, shouting isn’t going to change anything.” Mummy went through to the kitchen. “I’m going to get an ice pack- if you think you can last five minutes without shouting at one of my children, that is.”

“Well, maybe, Flora, if you could've had at least one that was normal, this wouldn't happen so often. For God’s sake, it’s bad enough that-”

“ _That is enough!”_ Mummy snapped. “I can tolerate a lot from you, Ahab- but I cannot tolerate you continuing to bully my children like this, especially not Fiona. Either you step up and start being the father she deserves, or I’ll find someone else who will!”

“You wouldn't,” he said, his voice almost dangerously low.

“Stop fighting!” Fiona screamed, causing them both to stare at her. “Just stop!” She wanted to jump down from the chair and run to her room, but if her ankle really was sprained, she’d probably never make it.

“I think you should go,” Mummy said firmly, looking back at Stepfather. “I’ll take care of this.”

After a moment or two, he left- even his footsteps were loud, stomping on the metal floor. Once he was gone, Mummy knelt beside Fiona’s chair.

“It’s alright, Fiona,” she said. “It’s alright, we’re all gonna be just fine, okay?” Fiona made herself nod. “Alright, I’m going to need to put this around your ankle for a bit, to stop the swelling.”

“How…” Fiona began, trying to pick the best words, which was harder than it usually was. “How long will it take to get better?”

“It depends- it could be anywhere between a few weeks and a few months, depending on how bad the sprain is.” She frowned, checking the injury carefully. “It doesn’t feel that bad- you should be back on your feet in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” Fiona asked, frowning. Was she going to be stuck in bed for a few _weeks?_

“Yes- it’ll be over before you know it, though.” She placed the ice pack on Fiona’s ankle, and tied a cloth around it to hold it in place.

“It’s too cold,” Fiona said, trying to shake it off.

“I know, dear- you don’t have to have it on for long, though.” She finished tying the ice pack in place, and stood up. “I’m going to finish making lunch- I’ll take the pack off after lunch, alright?”

Fiona frowned, but nodded. That wasn’t too bad- she could manage that. Mummy went through to the kitchen, leaving Fiona sitting at the table. Left alone, all she could think about was the argument she’d just seen her parents have. Had that been her fault? Possibly- after all, none of this would've happened if she had just looked where she was going and noticed the cable. She shouldn’t be so careless- now that she had her glasses and could see much more clearly, there was no reason to still be tripping over things and bumping into things, right?

 _Be the father she deserves or I’ll find someone else who will._ What had Mummy meant by that? Was she going to leave Stepfather? Was she as fed up with all the shouting and arguing as Fiona was? Fiona wasn’t sure how she felt about that- on one hand, if it would stop all the fighting, it had to be a good thing. On the other hand, this was her family- bad or good, it was all she had. If they left this submarine, if they left Stepfather- they’d have to start over again somewhere new, possibly with a whole new stepfather as well as a whole new place to live.

Finally, Mummy came in with a plate of cheese sandwiches, setting them down in front of Fiona.

“I think it’s best if I put you to bed after this, so you can rest your ankle better,” she said, taking a seat across from Fiona.

“It’s only lunch time!” she protested.

“This isn’t a punishment, Fiona- you’re hurt, and when that happens, it’s good practice to rest until you feel better. You don’t have to go to sleep just yet, but you should be off your feet for the rest of the day, at the very least.”

Fiona frowned, but she had to admit, that did make a bit of sense. She sighed, and ate her lunch. After a few minutes, though, she set down one of her sandwiches.

“Mummy, why is is such a bad thing that my ankle isn’t that sore?” It wasn’t the question she most wanted to ask, but it was one she wanted an explanation for.

“It’s not bad, necessarily, but it is worrying,” Mummy replied. “If your brain can’t tell the difference between a stubbed toe and a sprained ankle, then what’s going to happen if you’re hurt in a more serious way? What happens if you’re alone and something happens, and you don’t get help in time because you don’t realise just how bad it is?”

“I can’t help it,” Fiona replied, trying not to think about a situation where she would be hurt in a more serious way, or where she’d have to deal with that on her own.

“In that case, you’ll need to learn what the bad injuries look like. Not right now, of course, but if you can’t rely on one of your senses, then you need to rely on your others all the more. In other words, if you can’t tell how bad something is based on how it feels, then you’ll need to judge based on how it looks instead.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed.

As promised, Mummy put her to bed after lunch, though she let her have her mushroom book with her, maybe to prove that it really wasn’t a punishment.

“Have you got Mushy there?” Mummy asked, before spotting something on the floor and picking it up. “Never mind, he’s down here.”

Mushy was the first toy Fiona remembered having, and he was by far her favourite. He was a little mushroom, with a red cap patterned with white spots, and a little smiley face sewn onto his stalk. He was a bit grubby now, and one of his legs was sort of coming off, but Fiona loved him just the same.

“He’s looking a little worse for wear,” Mummy observed, tucking him in beside Fiona. “I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, though,” she added. She stood up. “Will you be alright on your own for a bit?” Fiona nodded, already opening her book to the last place she’d marked.

“Mummy,” she said, wanting to ask one more thing before she was left alone. “Are you going to leave Stepfather?”

Mummy was quiet for a moment before replying. “I don’t know,” she said. “Something needs to change, things can’t go on as they are.” She sighed, and shook her head. “Try not to worry about it, though- I’ll take care of everything, alright?”

Fiona nodded, and after another moment, Mummy left the room. After she was gone, Fiona turned her attention to her book, soon losing herself in the world of brightly coloured mushrooms.

* * *

She wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when she heard the knock at the door. Marking her place, Fiona closed the book.

“Who’s there?” she asked, looking up at the closed door.

“It’s just me, Fi,” her brother called. He was the only one who called her that- both her parents mostly just called her Fiona. Mummy seemed to do it because she liked the way it sounded- and sure enough, she always made it sound pretty, like music- whereas Stepfather seemed to just do it because he didn’t see the point in shortening anyone’s name for any reason.

“Come in!” she called, and Fernald came in, carrying a small tray with a bowl of soup on it. It was in Fiona’s favourite red bowl, and it smelled very nice.

“There’s your dinner,” he said, setting down the tray. “How’s your foot doing?”

“It’s okay,” Fiona replied, then moved her book aside so that it wouldn't get soup splashed on it. “Wait,” she said, opening it to the page she’d marked. “Look! I found Merricat’s mushroom!” She pointed to the picture of the death cap mushroom she’d spotted on the last page she’d read.

“Good stuff,” he said. “We can have a look at it after you’ve had your soup, alright?”

“Alright.” The soup was chicken flavoured- the same kind that Mummy usually made when she was feeling sick. Fiona wanted to protest against having sick soup when she wasn’t sick, but she was too hungry to really mind.

After she had finished, she pushed the tray back a little, and held her hands out for her book. Fernald gave it back, and Fiona took it, though she didn’t open it just yet.

“Did anything interesting happen in town today?” she asked. She didn’t really want to talk about what had happened in the submarine today, and hoped that whatever her brother had done in town was nicer than what she’d gotten up to at home.

“Not really,” Fernald admitted. “I did spot this in the market- though I wanted to wait until you’d finished your dinner before letting you have it.” At that, he drew a small, mushroom shaped cookie from his pocket, handing it to Fiona.

“Thanks!” she replied. The biscuit was shaped and decorated to look like a fly agaric mushroom, same as Mushy- though it didn’t have a smiley face, or arms or legs. “I almost don’t wanna eat it, it looks so nice!”

“If you won’t, then I just might have it,” Fernald replied, pretending to reach for it. Fiona smiled, putting the cookie in her mouth before he could grab it.

Part of her wanted to settle down now- she was tired, and it had been a long day. Part of her wanted Fernald to take We Have Always Lived In The Castle and read her a few pages, as they had been doing for the last couple of weeks. The story was very familiar now, but she still liked returning to it more than most other stories. But at the same time, in the back of her mind, she remembered what Mummy had said over breakfast, about last night’s fight.

“What was last night’s fight about?” she asked, not really sure how else to put the question. Her brother was quiet for a while, before replying.

“You know, I’ve been trying to think of the best way to explain that all day,” he said finally. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what’s going on, thinking certain things are bad when they aren’t. I thought of using fairytales to try and explain it, but I know you don’t really like those.”

“I like them plenty!” Fiona protested. “I just wouldn't want to be the princess in most of them, she seems like she never has any fun compared with the witches and the fairies.”

“Right- well, that’s not the only way someone might look at a typical fairytale and think they’re a bit… restrictive,” he replied. “Sometimes, people get annoyed at the fact that so many end with a prince and a princess getting married- they wish some would end with a prince and a prince, or a princess and a princess, cause that’s more relatable for them, if that makes sense.”

“I suppose that does make sense,” she said, thinking about it. “So there’s some boys who want to marry other boys when they grow up, and some girls who want to marry other girls when they grow up?” Something clicked, the reason why they were talking about this. “And that’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t really want to marry anyone, not for a while yet, but you are right in that, if I were to do so, I wouldn't be interested in doing so with a girl.”He was quiet again. “Are you okay with that?”

Fiona wasn’t sure why it mattered. All it meant was that someday, she might be stuck with another big brother, instead of a big sister- that was how it worked, wasn’t it? When you married someone, their family became your family, and your family became their family, right? That wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought.

“Yeah, I think so,” she replied, nodding firmly. Something else made sense at that moment. “That’s what the fight was about, wasn’t it? Stepfather wasn’t okay with it?” she guessed.

“Yeah, that’s about it,” he replied. “But, I don’t want you to think that means it’s a bad thing, because it isn’t. It’s a normal thing, that affects lots of people. There’s not anything wrong with it.”

“Got it,” she replied. She wanted to ask more things, but they could wait. Right now, she wanted her story, and to go to sleep. “Fernald,” she said. “Could you read me a little more of our story?”

“Sure, Fi,” he said, going to get the book. “Where were we?” he asked, flipping through the pages until he found the one he’d marked last time. “Chapter Four,” he began to read. “On Sunday morning the change was one day nearer. I was resolute about not thinking my three magic words and would not let them into my mind, but the air of change was so strong that there was no avoiding it…”

Most nights, Fiona could manage a few pages before she started feeling sleepy- sometimes a whole chapter, but it depended on how long the chapter was. Tonight, though, her brother had only just turned the page and read a few more lines when Fiona thought she might be too tired to listen to much more.

“I’m sleepy,” she said after a couple more lines. “Could we continue tomorrow?”

“That’s fine, Fi,” Fernald replied, closing the book. “It’s been a long day- hopefully tomorrow will be better, though.” He returned the book to the shelf, and turned to go, picking up the tray from dinner.

“Do you think,” Fiona asked, just before he left. “Do you think we could go to the moon some day, just like Connie and Merricat wanted to?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “The moon has to be better than here, anyway.”

Fiona settled down and went to sleep, dreaming of all the things they might have on the moon- of mushrooms and flowers, of a nice house and a cat, but above all, of peace and quiet. Because on the moon, it would just be the three of them- there would be no room for Stepfather in their pretty house on the moon.

The next day brought Mrs. Anwhistle and her husband, as promised, and the day after that, they left the lakeside town. Mummy left shortly after that, to go work at a research centre in the middle of the ocean. Fiona never saw her again.


End file.
